


Moving On

by goseaward



Series: Onwards [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-24
Updated: 2003-09-24
Packaged: 2017-10-31 13:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goseaward/pseuds/goseaward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many kinds of comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving On

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest. I did an absolutely horrible thing and forgot to thank [Isolde](http://www.skyehawke.com/archive/authors.php?no=92) for the beta at the fest, so I'm doing it here (again). She was wonderful. So sorry!

Snape leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. How he'd been strong-armed into letting both Potter and Weasley into N.E.W.T.-level Potions was beyond him. Their work was surprisingly adequate, but "adequate" wasn't enough to save them long and critical comments on every essay they turned in. 

Annoying brats. Never did anything right. Not even getting engaged. Snape let his mind drift to the letter he'd kept safely in the lowest drawer of his desk since receiving it two weeks before. 

_I think something's happening. Something's different with the Order, and I can't help feeling I'm going to be the one who pays. I'm getting scared, so I just wanted to make sure you knew._

He leaned forward and pulled Weasley's essay towards him. He'd even misspelled the title; the last "e" was crossed out. Messy, he wrote next to it. Substandard. _They want me to perform the ceremony. But if something happens, you should do it. We were their witnesses, after all._

Snape wondered how Sirius could think he'd forget. They'd have to undo the engagement ceremony following the marriage, of course, and in exactly the same way as they'd first performed it... He shook his head and returned to Weasley's essay. In the first paragraph, he found two spelling errors and four grammatical mistakes. 

_And more than that...no one ever made me feel the way you do._

The content of the second paragraph was missing several important points, and Weasley's desire to avoid quoting his sources was getting quite tiresome. Annoying brats. Why did he let them in the class? 

_I never loved you, Snape, but what we had was powerful._

He finally crossed out the entire last half of the essay in annoyance. You'll never get your N.E.W.T. with shoddy work like this, he scrawled at the top. Revised essay, three rolls this time, on my desk by Wednesday or thirty points from Gryffindor. 

_Perhaps deeper than love. No illusions. So find someone else, and try to be happy. I hope I made you happy, at least for a little while. Even if it was only post-orgasmic bliss. Good-bye, Severus._

He moved on to Granger's essay, a paragon of scholarship in comparison. Thank God some of his students were capable; there were days he didn't really want to concentrate on incompetence. 

* * *

Weasley opening the door, eyes dark and silky. "We heard," he says simply. "Come in." 

On the sofa, Potter, looking hollow. He reaches out a tentative hand. "Come here...it'll all be all right." 

Snape crosses his arms and glares. 

Weasley reaches out, encircles Snape's waist with both arms, kicks the door closed. His red head lies gently against Snape's chest, burrowing; Snape forgets sometimes that he is the adult here. "Hardest on you," Weasley breathes into his chest, and suddenly Snape wonders who's comforting whom. He wraps his arms around Weasley's waist and holds him tight. Potter walks up, runs caressing hands down Weasley's back, down Snape's side. "There's nothing we can do now, Snape." 

"Too late," Weasley says, broken. 

"Yes. Sssh." Potter starts massaging Weasley's shoulders; how long has he been the strong one? When he breaks, he will break in small slow pieces, rather than shattering like most of the Order; and he has Weasley to comfort him, too. Even now, Potter's being comforted by helping Weasley. Strong fingers rub relaxation into Weasley's muscles, run up occasionally to touch Snape's robes, his face. "Sssh," Potter says, and more things that are only baby talk, only meant to soothe. 

Snape can feel their warmth and familiarity cocooning him. They hurt, and they want to stop hurting; it is that simple, for them, and for a few minutes Snape can forget all the issues that Sirius's death has created. Right now, there is only him and Weasley and Potter, and unbidden sadness washes over him: this is wrong, Sirius should be here, I cannot deal with them without you, you keep me sane... Potter notices something is wrong and reaches up to cup his jawline, to rub circles in Snape's cheek with his thumb. Snape closes his eyes, opens them, and Potter looks back, bottomless too-large pupils surrounded by bright green irises. Too bright. Is he crying? No; he returns to Weasley's shoulders and his soothing murmurs, nothing more. 

Suddenly, Snape realizes he is rubbing Weasley's back as well, lower, near the sacrum. Weasley is limp, pliable, in his arms. If it weren't for...the situation, Severus would be sure that Weasley and Potter were getting ready to make love. But Weasley is still breathing shallowly into Snape's chest, and Potter is in protective-hero mode. For Snape himself as much as Weasley, he realises. He had wondered why he came here, to Lupin's house, rather than staying in the dungeons; but now he realises. This is the kind of person Potter is, that in saving others pain he can heal his own wounds. 

One wandering hand has moved to Snape's neck, caressing and pressing in a way that loosens muscles Snape normally prefers taut. He tries to shake the hand off without letting go of Weasley, but Potter just meets his gaze with an iron one of his own and doesn't stop. Weasley has started moving in his grasp, pulling back, turning. He doesn't move Snape's arms, but rather spins within them, till he is draped on Potter with Snape's hands still lying on his stomach. 

Potter closes his eyes and nestles his face briefly into the hollow between Weasley's neck and shoulder. One last pressed kiss and he looks up again, meeting Snape's eyes yet again. "You can stay here tonight," he says. His voice is hoarse. Perhaps he has been crying after all. "There's room. In here, or—" He swallows. "Or in Sirius's room, if that's what you want." 

"I think I will return to Hogwarts," Snape says. 

"All right. But stay as long as you want." Potter nuzzles, eyes half-closed, against Weasley's neck. Snape moves his arms around to Potter's back; he surrounds the cluster of living breathing grieving bodies, now, rather than being a part of it. He is the adult, really. As much as Potter will have to take on in the coming war, it will never be enough. 

"Thank you," Snape whispers, and clasps them tightly till he can take no more, and leaves. 

* * *

Snape woke with the echo of the memory still in his head the next morning, and dragged himself to his office. He sorted Potter's and Weasley's essays out from the pile and appended a note to the top. See me after class regarding your wedding plans. -- S. 

Perhaps it was time to move on, as Sirius had wanted him to do.


End file.
